Cruelty
by glasssnake
Summary: You summoned me, and you released me, and now I can't stop thinking about you. Contains a female same sex pairing.


DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

This story contains a female same sex pairing.

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Cruelty  
  
You didn't really care, did you? You probably thought that it was all a game, an experiment, something to do to fill the hours at night when you couldn't sleep. And once you'd summoned me, you released me, and now I can't stop thinking about you.  
  
I remember watching you, long before this all started, before you got ideas about things; long before you hurt me. I'm not sure why I noticed you wherever you went.  
  
Maybe it's because you are so different from me.  
  
I was cold and icy; the daughter of a respectable pureblood family, a daughter destined to one day be a wife, and then a mother. And you with your long, red hair; green eyes sparkling like grass laced with dew in the early morning light; and always warm and friendly, even to those the rest of the school considered outcasts.  
  
Yes, I saw you everywhere, Lily Evans; you beautiful monster. They say that your kind is dirty and wrong, because your blood is not pure. I say your kind is cruel, because you hurt me, and you must have _known_ it would hurt me, and you didn't care.  
  
I know one thing - I didn't start this. Not intentionally, anyway. You started all this when you saw me watching you one day, and you smiled at me, and you did it in such a way that I thought in that instant that I wasn't the only one who could feel such things, and I felt less lonely for it.  
  
You spoke to me afterwards, and I can't think why you would've wanted to, it wasn't like you didn't know about my family's opinions about people who weren't considered a 'good pedigree'. You must have seen something I didn't know about. You spoke to me when we were alone together, because you had a few questions, and you didn't want anyone else to overhear. After all, at Hogwarts, walls have ears. Literally.  
  
I remember that now, how you wanted to "ask me some questions". I can't blame you for not warning me, because you did say they were personal. But I would do anything for you, and I thought that you felt more or less the same.  
  
And you asked me if I loved you, and if I felt _that _way about women, and you did it in such a way that I thought that to say no would disappoint you, for I truly believed you might feel the same for me. And you smiled again (Merlin, how you smiled! Mother was right, Mudbloods are devious), and kissed me.  
  
I hadn't really realised how much I'd longed for such a kiss. I suppose that feelings are like icebergs, with most of what you feel hidden from your conscious mind. And then you hit the emotion-iceberg and realise just what it was that was going on all along. And then, Lily, you either sink or swim.  
  
Do you remember the game we played with each other? Quick kisses exchanged in the breaks between classes, clumsy fumbles with clothing in cupboards (cupboards! What were we thinking?), glances across the classroom during lessons, meetings late at night in empty rooms. Taking risks, almost hoping someone would notice us, or find us in a compromising situation.  
  
I know I hoped. And I wish that somebody had found us, despite the fact that, had the rest of the school known, they would have avoided us like the plague. For then I could've come out in the open, could've been able to be myself, could've faced my parents and their values, and how I longed to do that. (If I'd had Andromeda's courage I would have walked out as soon as I was old enough). Then I would've had you, for then you would have been bound to me and I to you.  
  
And I spent my sixth year in bliss, for I was in love.  
  
I wrote letter upon letter to you during the summer, each a carefully handcrafted declaration of my feelings, not just for you, but about everything. I poured out my soul in those letters, poured it out and served it up to you. Did you like my letters? Or did you read them and laugh at silly Narcissa who was just so funny sometimes?  
  
I survived that summer because of you. I could ignore Bellatrix's mocking comments and snide suggestions that she was doing something great and wonderful in serving an all-powerful Dark Lord, while I sat at home and did my nails. Doing my nails, Lily? I was writing to you.  
  
I could ignore Mother's fussing about manners and clothing and marriage, I could ignore Father and his ranting about the importance of blood, I could ignore the talk of war approaching. I ignored it all, because I felt that there was something more to my life then all that.  
  
Sometimes I wish I had said something about you to my family, even if it resulted in my losing everything I had ever been taught to value.  
  
And my seventh and final year arrived. I felt ... I can't describe what I felt as I stood on platform nine and three quarters. A sort of mix between fear and elation and love; a potpourri of emotions. You came and sat with me on the train, (more risk taking on your part. What would have happened if we were seen chatting on the Hogwarts Express? I suppose someone must have seen us, it's so crowded on that train...) thanked me for my letters, (were you being sarcastic, Lily?) and told me about your summer.  
  
And everything was wonderful.  
  
I suppose I was stupid to think that such things would last. I came to you one evening in an empty classroom. You were sitting on an old desk, and when I entered you leapt up and danced. You danced with dust motes swirling around you; you were vivid against the grey stone walls, hair and eyes shining in the light of the setting sun that was spilling in from the high arched windows.  
  
'Oh Narcissa, I'm in love!' And inside I flew, a bird, in the rays of the sun that was Lily. 'James Potter is the most wonderful person in the world!'  
  
And if I had been flying, it was all over in a second. And you danced and sang and laughed. What could I say? 'I'm pleased for you?' So proper and polite, so well versed in the rules of etiquette. Mother would have been proud. And you chattered about James Potter, how wonderful he was, how good at Quidditch he was, just about everything anyone could ever want to know about James _bloody_ Potter.  
  
Of course, I asked you about how much you hated him, but to no avail: "He's really improved, Narcissa. You'd never think that it was the same person." And then another speech about the human wonder that was Potter. I died that evening.  
  
We never were as close as we had been after that. I ignored you to the best of my powers; you were with Potter, so I don't think you noticed (did you notice, Lily?) when I replaced you.  
  
Lucius Malfoy was everything my parents wanted in a son-in-law. He was a powerful pureblood wizard, with an old family name, and wealth. What better match for their youngest daughter?  
  
What did you think about that Lily, that I married? I remember telling you, "I'm engaged to Lucius Malfoy!" but I can't remember your reply, or even if there was one. After that we went our separate ways.  
  
You married Potter, I married Malfoy, and we both had children (boys) in the same year. And then you were murdered, the first war ended, and I knew that I was truly alone. I have done my level best since then to be the pureblood wife I was always intended to be. On the whole, I think I have succeeded in that.  
  
Now your son and mine are in the same year at Hogwarts and hate each other with a passion, the Dark Lord's back and the wizarding world looks set to plunge into another war. As for Harry, I saw him at the Quidditch World Cup, and he doesn't look much like you. In fact when I first saw him I thought for a rather surreal moment that it was James, and I suddenly remembered how much I hated him. I hate Harry for looking like him. His one saving grace is that he has your eyes. I wonder sometimes if anyone's told him that.  
  
I still see you, you know. When the last rays of the sun shine in through the windows, lighting up the rooms with a warm glow, I see you twirling in that classroom, I hear your, 'Oh Narcissa, I'm in love!'  
  
And I fly again.

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